


night shift

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: rie's destiel smut bingo [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bartender Dean Winchester, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Light Masochism, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Vampire Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 09:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: A vampire walks into a bar ... and Dean can't take his eyes off him.Written for destielsmutbingo. B2: Tell me what it feels like.





	night shift

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and probably full of plotholes. Vampire tropes galore, but with a few twists.

Dean dried a whiskey hamper with one of the frayed old towels that were stacked behind the bar. Nobody remembered who put them there. Over the years they had all turned some shade of gray, no matter the color they had started out with.

The evening was slow. A couple regulars played pool over in the corner. Bobby sat in his usual booth, hands folded around a tall glass of bourbon and watched the ice cubes melt. He looked up when the door opened, and Dean could see his beard twitch with curiosity when the newcomer made his way over to the bar.

The vampires had come out a couple of months ago. Hollywood was full of them, the rich and famous flocked around them in New York and Las Vegas, where it became unfashionable to host a party without at least two or three undead guests.

In Lebanon, things didn’t change so fast. The sight of Castiel Novak’s dark hair, iridescent blue eyes and pale skin still sent a shiver down most people’s backs. In most cases, that shiver was caused by the ancient, instinctive reaction of the prey in the vicinity of the predator. In most cases, that shiver was fear.

Dean’s spine tingled, too, when he caught sight of the resident vampire. Some wires in his brain must have been crossed, though, because what Dean felt wasn’t fear. It was excitement.

He met Cas’ impassive gaze briefly across the room, captivated for long seconds like a mouse in front of a snake, before Cas’ eyes flickered away to take in the rest of the room. He moved with a lazy grace that spoke of barely contained power. Dean put away the glass and the towel to get a bottle of O negative from the fridge and set it down on the counter just when Cas’ slid onto the barstool.

“Hello Dean.” The deep voice travelled over Dean’s skin like a caress. He swallowed against his suddenly dry throat.

“Hi Cas,” he greeted and watched Cas open his bottle to take a sip. Cas hummed in appreciation and licked his lips, his tongue dark red from the liquid. Dean’s pulse quickened while he watched, and Cas’ eyes briefly flitted up to his neck, but it was gone so fast that Dean couldn’t be sure. He calmed his breathing and tried on a small smile while Cas drank. The silence between them stretched on, and Dean wracked his brain for something interesting to say, but nothing came to mind.

His life was boring, at least compared to what Cas must have seen and done over the last centuries. Cas smiled a little, too, as if he was amused by Dean’s awkwardness. When Cas drank again he tilted his head back a bit more to give Dean a clear view of his throat working, and when he was done, he licked his lips again, slower this time. Dean watched, mesmerized, and something moved inside his stomach. A blush crept up his neck and cheeks.

“Thank you,” Cas said and held up the bottle. His eyes were glued to Dean’s flushed neck now, and his smile widened enough to show the sharpness of his canines. That really shouldn’t be so hot, Dean thought, suddenly very aware that he was being played with, but not caring in the least.

Somebody else seemed to care, though. Bobby cleared his throat on the other end of the counter and set his empty glass down with a _clank_. Cas raised his right eyebrow and concentrated back on his drink. With a sigh, Dean turned to walk over to Bobby. He was a good guy, had raised Sam and Dean when their father had vanished, but he also harbored some old-fashioned views concerning vampires that he loved to share with Dean.

“Be careful, boy,” he muttered as he paid for his drink. “I told Ellen she shouldn’t let those people in here, but she wouldn’t listen. It’s dangerous, is what it is. He should watch out for yourself.”

Dean shrugged and took the money. Bobby grabbed his arm, and his voice became urgent. “Don’t think I don’t see how you look at him. There are a lot of nice guys and ladies out there, Dean, _human_ ones, don’t throw yourself at some monster.”

Bobby spoke low, but Dean could see Cas’ head whip up from the corner of his eye. He felt the sudden need to defend Cas. “He is an American citizen just like you and me, Bobby,” he spat, sharper than he intended, “and he’s never done anything wrong as long as we know him, so excuse me while I respect his rights and treat him like a person.” Bobby’s eyes widened at his little speech. He wasn’t used to Dean talking back to him like this.

His grip on Dean’s arm loosened. “Whatever,” he mumbled, though the argument would be far from over, just postponed until the next family dinner. “But promise me to be careful, okay?”

Dean nodded. Bobby shot one last look over to Cas who met his gaze levelly, then turned and left.

Dean’s father had always called him his good little soldier. Opposed to his brother, who had a rebellious streak a mile wide and who had left Lebanon the first chance he got, Dean had always played by the rules. At the age of 23 he didn’t have a lot to show for him. A day job at Bobby’s auto shop, night shifts at the bar, the small house his father left him with the big wild garden, his meticulously cared for Chevy Impala, and a few people he called friends. He was happy, though, and didn’t find his life lacking. That is, until he met Cas. Cas made Dean wanting things for himself. And in his presence, Dean wanted to be more, to be someone a person like Cas would find interesting.

Bobby’s words echoed in his head over and over. And Dean found, for the first time in his life, that he didn’t want to follow the rules and stay on the safe side. He flirted with Cas the whole evening. When he wiped the tables, he made sure to bend directly in Cas’ line of sight and push out his ass a little more than necessary. When he turned again, Cas’ eyes had gone a little bit darker, Dean thought, but maybe that was just the light.

It was past midnight when things went south. Alistair and his crew of troublemakers entered the bar, already drunk and cloaked in a cloud of violent energy. Dean took one look at them and sighed, the ancient sigh of the barkeeper that can smell a looming barfight in the air and knows there’s nothing much he can do to stop it. The men sat down in a booth and started shouting for drinks, and Alistair grinned his wolfish grin when Dean came over.

“Hey there, pretty boy!,” he waved and winked at Dean. He’d been born as an asshole and hadn’t gotten nicer over the years. “Get us some beers and a bottle of your cheapest moonshine.”

Dean didn’t point out that there were regulations for which kind of booze they were allowed to sell, and felt a pang of gratitude that Ellen stocked the back shelf with cheap tequila for this exact situation. Still, he debated telling them they were sold out. Pouring more alcohol into them wouldn’t improve the situation. As he prepared the order, the group spotted Cas.

The room went silent for a moment, no doubt Alistair and his friends shot each other weighted looks before they began to mumble under their breaths. Dean took over the drinks as fast as he could, set them down on the table and turned back to the bar. When he reached Cas, he slowed down so he could whisper: “You should get out of here,” and took his glass to a cover his warning.

Cas turned around to look at the group and catch their hateful gazes and hold them for long moments. “I think I’ll have another drink,” he said, voice cool but loud enough that the other guests could hear him.

It took about four minutes till one of the guys had gathered his courage and sauntered over to the bar to stand in front of Cas and stare at him.

“We don’t want bloodsuckers in our bar,” he slurred and Dean saw that his stance was unsteady as if the floor beneath him moved.

Cas said nothing, just lifted his drink to his mouth to take a sip.

“I said …” the man started again as if Cas hadn’t heard him the first time.

“That’s enough,” Dean said. “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t bother our costumers.” He tried to keep his voice flat and steady while his blood boiled with anger.

“I’m not bothering him, right?” The man placed his hand on Cas’ shoulder and leaned in to whisper loudly in his ear. “He’s not even human, so he’ll understand that we would like to spend the evening with our own kind.” He was surprisingly eloquent for a man that clearly had drunk all night and didn’t know a lot about decent behavior. Dean saw that his hand gripped Cas’ shoulder hard enough to bruise, but Cas didn’t even flinch. He ignored the man and looked at Dean, waiting for a sign that Dean wanted him to leave. Dean shook his head. If he gave in now, nothing would ever change.

He straightened to his full height and scrutinized the guy. “I’ll ask you once again to leave my guests alone. This is an open bar, and everybody is welcome here as long as they behave. If you have a problem with that, you’re free to go.”

The guy looked shocked for a second before his face distorted into a hateful mask. “I _have_ a problem with that. And a lot of other people do, too. What, is that disgusting bloodsucker your boyfriend or something? You one of those vamp sluts bending over for a fucking killer machine?”

“And if I was?” Dean asked, furious now. “Are you jealous?”

The guy made a gagging noise and looked Dean up and down with disgust clear on his face. For a moment, Dean though he was going to punch him, or Cas, but the moment came and went, and the man seemed to make up his mind. He spat on the counter and turned around. His friends looked up startled from their beers and shot glances over to the bar while their buddy told them what happened. Alistair said something low and urgent. Then they stood and left.

They hadn’t paid for their beers, and the bottle was half empty, but all in all it was a small price to pay to have the bar quiet again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Cas murmured when Dean came back with the empty glasses.

“What?” Dean asked, although he knew.

“Defend me,” Cas said.

“Oh yes, I had to. Can’t let assholes like that get away with this kind of bullshit.” He told himself he’d done it for moral reasons, because it was the right thing to do. But the shiver between his shoulder blades where he felt Cas’ eyes on him told a different story.

When the man has asked him if he’d let Cas fuck him, anger hadn’t been the only thing making his blood rush faster through his veins. An image had bloomed in his mind, of himself on his hands and knees, naked, Cas behind him, thrusting hard, bending forward to sink his teeth into Dean’s neck. Dean’s cock twitched in his jeans remembering the sudden mental image.

“Thank you,” Cas said behind him and Dean fiddled with the glasses to occupy his hands while he tried to calm his pounding heart and get his overeager dick to stand down and chill.

“No big deal, buddy,” he murmured.

Around two, the last patrons except Cas left, and Dean started cleaning up the bar for the night. Unprompted, Cas put up the chairs so Dean could sweep under the tables. They didn’t talk much, but they worked in an almost companionable silence, well, aside from the tension caused by Dean’s overly vivid imagination. Which had come up with various new ideas that put his favorite porn site to shame.

Cas moved gracefully between the tables, shoulders bunching up under his black shirt when he lifted the chairs as if they weighed nothing. He had elegant hands, long fingers with neatly cut nails, and Dean wondered if they had looked that way for the odd hundred years since Cas had become vampire. Did he have to cut his hair or had it always looked like this, as if he’d just rolled out of bed after a good, rough tryst? Had his eyes been this blue when he’d still been human? Over his collar, a slim black line peeked out and wound up his neck. Did he get that ink as a vampire? How did that even work?

Dean realized with a start that he was staring again, and that Cas had noticed, because he stood perfectly still as if to invite Dean to look his fill. The way Cas didn’t move at all made Dean aware of how much he fiddled, how fast he breathed, how hard his heart was pounding. The air filled with electricity as if a storm was brewing, and lightning was just about to strike.

“The tattoo,” Dean said, just to say something, anything, “how…?”

Cas didn’t answer right away, but opened the first button on his shirt, slowly as he wanted to give Dean time to stop him. When Dean didn’t, he reached for the second button.

“A small amount of silver, just enough to stop the skin from healing,” Cas said and there went the third button. Dean’s palms were sweating while his mind raced. What was happening right now? Cas wanted to show him his ink, and Dean desperately wanted to see it, wanted a look at Cas’ pale skin and how he had turned it into art. Tattoos were an intimate thing, even for humans, and it had to be even more personal for a being who could change nothing about themselves.

Cas finished opening his shirt and turned to shuck it from his shoulders. Dean gasped. In intricate lines the artist had painted an angel with outstretched wings on Cas’ back. The image seemed to move with the silver-stained ink that flowed under Cas’ skin, where his body was unable to reject the substance, and unable to heal the wounds.

Dean didn’t remember coming closer but all of a sudden, he was standing behind Cas and felt his hand reaching out before he could stop himself.

“May I?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cas answered. And so Dean reached out and traced the outline of the angel with his fingertips, slow and light, while they stood in the middle of an empty bar, in the middle of the night, and Dean should be tired and yearning for his bed, but he felt more awake than ever before. Cas was still as a statue, his pale skin cold to the touch, warming a little where Dean touched him. The flow of the ink and the subtle intimacy of the situation were mesmerizing. Dean fell into a kind of hazy stupor so he took a second to realize that he wasn’t touching Cas’ back anymore.

Cas had turned fast enough that Dean hadn’t time to take a way his hand so it lay on Cas’ heart now. A heart that didn’t beat and hadn’t for a long time. Cas lifted his hand and pressed Dean’s palm down as if he needed to make a point. I’m not alive, the gesture said, and you would do well to be aware of that. Dean looked up from their combined hands and raised an eyebrow in defiance; _that all you got_?

Cas smiled a little smile that tugged on Dean’s heart because it was cute and sweet and didn’t fit into the brooding undead maverick vibe that Cas could put on like perfume. Then Cas’ smile widened, and he opened his plush lips around a set of fangs, and all thoughts of Cas being cute vanished like a flock of birds when the hawk circled the forest.

His canines were just slightly longer than his other teeth, but the tips were sharp like needles. The soft light of the lamps over the bar reflected on the blazing white surface of the deadly fangs, and, stemming from some primal knowledge, Dean’s body froze at the sight. With a stumbling throb his heart picked up speed again, and the images flooded back. Cas – bent over him, biting and sucking, moaning while he took Dean’s blood, took his body in every way he wanted.

Dean let out a breath that was half whimper and bit his bottom lip. He moved his free hand up to Cas’ face, thumbed along his jaw and carded his fingers into the dark hair like he had wanted to since he first saw him. Cas still didn’t move. Something like fear and shock moved in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas rasped, and Dean felt him tremble with restraint.

Dean leaned in and grazed his lips lightly along Cas’ mouth, careful not to nick his skin on his teeth. “You won’t,” he murmured, “it’s okay, Cas, I trust you.” And just as he said it he knew it was true. For some reason, he trusted Cas with his life – which wasn’t even an exaggeration in this situation – he trusted this silent man, who was not quite human and so much more human, so much more real than most people he knew.

A silent war waged inside Cas for long moments, and when it was over, Cas’ hands came up to Dean’s neck in a tight and unyielding grip, and Cas’ mouth opened against his, and Dean held on for dear life while Cas kissed him, devoured him like a small frightened animal, slow, slow, slow and expertly. Cas licked into his mouth, and Dean’s pulse throbbed in his throat, under Cas’ hands, as if his blood wanted to flow out of his skin. He shivered and trembled, grasping for Cas’ shoulders with feeble motions. Cas growled into his mouth, and that - that was the hottest thing Dean had ever heard, a sound that shot right down his spine, down to his cock.

His hips shot forward to rub against Cas, to feel the answering hardness while Cas did things with his lips and tongue that set Dean’s whole body on fire. Dean tilted his head, just slightly, in the tight hold of Cas’ hands, a clear invitation that punched another one of those noises out of Cas, animalistic and raw. But Cas just kept kissing him, kept teasing and licking and sucking, made Dean writhe with pleasure and need. And then Dean felt Cas’ cold hand on his groin, a palm pressed against his straining erection, and a thumb popping open the button on his jeans. A zipper being pulled down. Cool fingers slipping into his underwear. Dean moaned, so loud it echoed through the empty room, when Cas curled his hand around him.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed against Cas open lips when Cas started to move his hand. He felt hot and swollen against Cas’ cool skin, the contrast unfamiliar and foreign, but oh so fucking good. Cas’ moved his lips along Dean’s jaw, over the pounding pulse point and Dean tensed, sure that Cas would … and fuck, Dean wanted him to, wanted to know what it would feel like for those teeth to sink into him. But Cas licked slowly along the vein on his neck, a barely there touch, and inhaled deeply as if he wanted to memorize Dean’s scent.

And then Cas sank to his knees.

Dean looked down at him, the blue eyes almost glowing in the dark, his hair even more disheveled, his pale hands stark white against Dean’s jeans.

Cas pulled the fabric a down a bit further until Dean was naked to mid-thigh and his cock hung heavy, twitching right in front of Cas’ face. Even on his knees there was no doubt Cas was in total control of the situation. His gaze was hungry, his lips slightly parted as if he waited to take a bite out of something tasty. Dean could see the tips of his canines behind his thick lips. He should be afraid, being exposed and vulnerable in front of an ancient being that could kill him with a flick of his wrist. But instead he felt desired and wanted, he felt safe in Cas’ hands. Cas held his gaze as he leaned in and opened his lips around the head of Dean’s cock, as he sank down slowly and swallowed him almost to the root.

Dean’s knees buckled, and Cas held him up, steadied him with his superhuman strength, but he didn’t stop, until Dean nudged against his throat and it opened up, tight and hot, around Dean’s thick length. Dean watched and panted through his open mouth, reached back to grip the table behind him. The sight would burn itself into his memory, the sight of Cas’ pale lips stretched wide, his careful movements to keep his teeth from nicking Dean’s skin.

Dean’s heart hammered in his chest, pumped blood into his gut fast enough to make him dizzy. Cas’ mouth was cool like his hands on Dean’s thighs, and heat pooled in Dean’s belly like molten gold.

Cas’ tongue was wicked and brought him skillfully and ridiculously quick to the brink, took his breath away, before he slowed down his pace and Dean could breathe once more, gulping down air greedily, steeling himself for the next onslaught. Dean closed his eyes and groaned brokenly when Cas picked up the pace again, sucking and pressing his tongue against the underside where the thick vein was pulsing with his need to come.

Dean’s muscles tensed once more, and he opened his mouth to say something, warn Cas, but all he managed was a hoarse cry that morphed into a whine when Cas slowed down again, just enough to take Dean back from the edge. It was torture, it was glorious. Dean had gotten his fair share of blowjobs in his life, but this, holy Christ, this was something else. Cas took him apart like it was nothing, like he had all the time in the world, and maybe that was it: Time had a different meaning for Cas, and for the first time this evening, Dean thought he understood how different Cas’ life was from his.

The pressure built again. Cas swirled his tongue around Dean’s head and brought his right hand up to jerk Dean base to tip, just right, while he suckled and licked that perfect spot. Dean gripped the table hard enough that his hands started to burn with the strain. His cock twitched under Cas’ lips, ready to come, oh god, he was so ready, but once more, Cas found the last second to stop, and Dean heard himself beg.

“Please, Cas, come on, don’t stop, please,” he almost sobbed. Cas looked up and smiled his predator smile, showing his fangs, and stuck out his tongue to lick the small drop of precome from Dean’s slit, all casual. He licked his lips and hummed low in his throat.

“You want to come?” he asked in a tone as if he wanted to know how Dean liked the weather today.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, “god, please.”

Cas’ hand was still on him, curled in a loose fist, stroking him lazily.

“Do you want me to come from my mouth or …” Cas opened his mouth wider and touched the tip of his right upper canine, piercing his own skin until a drop of blood bloomed. It was gone a second later when the wound closed.

Dean’s heart stopped and picked up its rhythm even faster and harder a second later. Cas waited patiently, but the hunger in his eyes told Dean that he held his breath waiting for Dean’s answer. Cas’ left index finger stroked along the vein where Dean’s hip met his thigh. The pressure in Dean’s spine became almost unbearable. It would be over in a moment if Cas put his mouth back on his cock, one or two bobs of Cas’ head would be enough. Or he could just tighten his hand a little, just a little bit would be enough, just a little tug from Cas’ skilled hand. Dean wanted that with every fiber of his being, wanted come from Cas mouth and his hands.

But even more than that, Dean wanted to feel Cas’ teeth. "Tell me what it feels like," he panted. Cas just shook his head, breathing hard himself. Dean couldn't be sure if he didn't want to tell him or if he just couldn't - whatever it was, it didn't Change Dean's answer.

“Do it,” he whispered, swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, then stronger, “do it, Cas.”

He didn’t have to spell it out. Cas struck like a snake, too fast to see, and then there was pain, sharp and sudden, and Dean cried out with it. He felt Cas’ teeth sink into him, every small burning increment that brought Cas deeper, felt it when Cas found the vein and pierced it. He never thought of himself as a guy who enjoyed pain, but clearly he’d been wrong. His cock jerked violently just next to Cas’ face and the pressure in his spine rose and rose, made his skin tingle and his toes curl.

“Holy fuck, Cas,” he managed to say, before … before Cas sucked, just lightly, and pure ecstasy flooded Dean’s body. He went rigid from head to toe, dangled over the precipice for long moments, overwhelmed and unable to form a single coherent thought, and then he fell and fell, endlessly, his cock spurting out thick ropes all over Cas’ back, and it didn’t stop, even when his cock ran dry, he jerked and convulsed, half bent over Cas, crying out with every soft suckling of Cas’ mouth. His cock stayed hard through all of it, pulsed and bobbed and pumped out small pearls of come. It must have been minutes, before Cas finally drew back and sat on his haunches, a blissed out smile curling his blood-stained lips. Dean’s arms gave out and het let himself sink to the floor.

He chuckled and raked a hand through his sweat-slick hair, looked down at his still-erect cock.

“Holy shit, Cas,” he mumbled. “This normal?” he waved in the general direction on his groin.

“Our salvia contains a substance that acts as an aphrodisiac,” Cas answered, eyes glued to the wound on Dean’s thigh. “It heightens the pleasure and shortens the refractory period to almost nothing. This way our species ensures that the victim doesn’t care that it is drained to death while the pleasure lasts.”

A hard tone had crept into his voice, and Dean didn’t like it. “But you stopped,” he said simply.

Cas shrugged, a movement that didn’t fit the graceful way he usually moved, and he didn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“You stopped,” Dean said again and leaned forward to kiss Cas softly. “I trusted you, and I was right.”

He pushed against Cas’ chest, fully aware that Cas wouldn’t have to budge if he didn’t want to, until Cas lay sprawled on the floor. Dean kissed him again, harder this time, so he could taste the copper of his own blood on Cas’ lips. He dragged his hand down Cas’ chest until he reached a nipple and rubbed over it until it pebbled and Cas moaned into his mouth. Interesting. He pinched the hardening nub between his fingertips and swallowed the low, wanton sound from Cas’ lips, before he did it again until Cas squirmed.

Dean reached for Cas’ pants and opened them. Cas’ cock sprang free. Vamps go commando, it seemed and Dean was all for it, because there was nothing stopping him from gripping Cas’ dick and feel him in his hand. Cas bucked up into his fist and uttered a broken little sound that Dean wanted to hear again and again. He crawled over Cas’ body until his thighs were bracketing Cas’ hips and he could grip both of their cocks in his hand. He had softened over the last minutes, but perked up again when he felt Cas pressed against him.

Cas’ eyes flew open at the feeling of their erections rubbing together. Dean put his right hand next to his head to steady himself so he could fuck into his fist and increase the friction. He leaned down and took Cas’ right nipple into his mouth, bit down hard enough to make Cas cry out before he stretched to find Cas’ lips again. He wasn’t sure if he could even come again, but more than anything he wanted to see Cas come undone, wanted to learn the sounds he made when he stopped thinking.

He mouthed along Cas’ jaw and grace his teeth along the clear-cut bone, licked up along the sensitive skin under his ear and bit down on his earlobe teasingly. “Come on, Cas,” he whispered and stretched his neck. Cas grabbed his shoulder and his head in a bruising grip, and Dean felt it again, the helplessness of the prey, his limbs tensing and then going limp in surrender, the surge of adrenaline, his senses focused on the one point where the beast would strike.

Cas was faster this time, piercing and biting down in one quick motion, and the pain was replaced almost immediately by that strange, all-consuming pleasure. Cas’ hips pistoned up into Dean’s fist, rough and uncoordinated, when he started drinking. Cas didn’t take much, Dean could tell, but he felt light-headed all the same. He tried to concentrate on the movement of his hand, but he could feel the pressure building again, and his vision whited out with another dry orgasm just as Cas tensed and spilled hotly over his hand and his own stomach.

Dean collapsed on top of him, completely drained and gasping for breath. Cas’ cool chest felt divine under his flushed cheek, and his pecs were remarkably soft. For a silly moment Dean wished he could hear his heartbeat.

“That was awesome,” he mumbled, his mouth half stuck to Cas’ skin. “That was the best sex I had in years.”

“Only in years? Not ever?” Cas teased as he brushed Dean’s hair from his forehead, the gesture so tender that Dean’s heart ached with it. If there was a future for them, and that was a big _if_ , being different species and all, he’d like to spend lazy summer nights with Cas in bed, just touching each other like this.

Dean shrugged. “Don’t want you to get cocky,” he said and pinched Cas’ side.

Cas hummed, clearly lost in thought. “For me it’s 150 years,” he said quietly.

Dean looked up at him with wide eyes, because … “That you had sex this good or sex at all?” he asked. Cas just held his gaze and said nothing.

“Holy Christ,” Dean couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. “Way to make guy feel special, Cas.”

Cas reached up and touched the marks on Dean’s neck lightly, then stroked up to his cheek. “You are,” Cas said simply, and leaned up to kiss Dean again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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